


Iris

by alenkoblue



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cautiously Abandoned, Closeted Character, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9403031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alenkoblue/pseuds/alenkoblue
Summary: "When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am"James Vega never claimed to have it all figured out, in fact, he'd much rather avoid expectations altogether. Expectation can only lead to disappointment. Expect a decent family? Your mother dies and your father becomes a manipulative drug addict. Expect to stop the Collectors? Make sacrifices in vain because your hero's already done it for you. Expect to win the Reaper war? Lose every planet and everyone you used to know to a robotic menace. Expect a mourning widower to be falling just as hard for you as you are for him? Well... that one might actually work out.-I've moved on from Cortega at the moment, so I don't have much motivation to keep writing this. If I ever get back into Cortega, I'll be sure to try and get some more of this done-





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first work in over a year, my first Cortega work ever, and the first time I'm writing anything more than a oneshot, so don't expect anything pristine. My editing was definitely rough and if I have time I will edit it again, but that's not likely to happen until I finish the story. That being said, please give me as much feedback as you want. Random letters and ALL CAPS RAMBLING of enjoyment are equally as welcome as constructive criticism.

“One hundred and eighty-two,” James grunted, dropping to the floor from the overhead bar and landing in a light squat, “I think that might be my new record,” he mused aloud, his voice amplifying through the shuttle bay. James _knew_ he had broken his record, but he wanted to make sure that a certain shuttle pilot on the other end of the bay knew just as well. He peeled the sweat-soaked shirt off his body, revealing the glistening skin beneath. He chucked the shirt as if it were a basketball into a nearby crate he had made dubbed his laundry hamper. Stretching his arms behind his head, he walked toward his weapons bench, risking a glance to see if Cortez had been watching at all. He could see Steve shaking his head a little and chuckling, but as far as he could tell, he hadn’t bothered to take a moment to watch James train.

 

James sighed, shoulders slumping just a little. Not enough that he would admit he was disappointed. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t really expecting to get much of a reaction out of Steve anymore. The first few times Steve had seen him work out there was some not-as-subtle-as-intended checking out, but he seemed to have tired of James’ appearance fairly quickly. Any attraction that may have been there had faded quickly, to no one’s surprise, really. Being a war-widower had left Steve with too much baggage to even consider finding another man attractive. As understanding as he was of Steve’s situation, James missed the attention and admiration Steve seemed to give him in the first weeks of their acquaintance. Disappointment had become a familiar flavour to James Vega and he’d begun to learn that expectations and hope weren’t worth the potential for failure and pain.

 

But still, every time he worked out, without fail, James would keep glancing over to the armory to see if Steve was watching. He only seemed to look when James fumbled or otherwise embarrassed himself. He wasn’t even sure why he cared so much; it was just _Esteban_. Other people looked at him all the time. He could barely make it through the Citadel without most people giving his muscular body a doubletake and more than his fair share of admirers gave him a onceover, but there was something about Steve. Something about the way he made James feel when they talked and made fun of each other, or when Steve’s eyes would linger just a little longer on James’ face, or the chill that sometimes shot up James’ spine when their hands brushed as they traded off weapons. It made James feel at ease, almost at home. Almost. Not that James really _had_ much of a home back on Earth, even before the Reapers started tearing it up. But there was a part of James, some remnant of his youthful optimism, some part of him that didn’t know his mother was gone, that felt like nothing could quite beat the feeling of sand between your toes and the sun at your back, but the way Steve made him feel was a close second. _That’s just what having a best friend is like, Papito_ , that’s what his mother said when he felt the same about a boy in his fifth-grade class. He wasn’t quite as sure about that anymore, at least, not since he’d heard Alenko giving some longwinded monologue about how great he and Shepard were together. _But that’s not what’s happening here, I don’t like guys like that, hell, I barely even like girls like that._ That’s what he told himself, at least.

 

“If I didn’t know any better Mr. Vega, I’d say you were bragging! Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to be humble?” Steve’s voice called from across the room, knocking James out of his brief reverie.

 

Leaning on the table in front of him, James called back, “Nah, but yours sure did teach me a lot last night!” He turned away from Steve and set about finding a fresh change of clothes and his shower gear.

 

“Ooh, where’d you learn that one? Fifth grade?” Steve chuckled as he polished a shotgun.

 

James froze, his breath seemingly knocked out of his chest. He quickly forced himself out of his tableau, grabbing the last of his stuff. He moved to leave his workstation and, suddenly feeling very exposed, emotionally and physically, turned back on his heel. He grabbed the shirt he had just removed during his pitiful effort to grab Steve’s attention and pulled it back on. The wet, sweaty fabric twisted and pulled and pinched in weird places and refused to sit right on his body. _Yeah… nothing feels right today, anyway_ , he thought as he hurried across the shuttle bay to the elevator, desperate to wash away the anxiety that was clinging to his mind, churning his stomach, tearing him down with every second more he spent near Steve.

 

Cortez had barely noticed he was leaving until the elevator door slid open. “Wait, James, where are you-,” but the door closed before he could finish his sentence. Cortez stared for a second before turning back to the shotgun he had just finished cleaning. Finding himself unable to focus, he turned back to the group of privates standing on the far side of the armory “Did you guys see that?” he asked, greeted only by a collection of shrugs and uncertain grunts.

 

“No comeback? No egocentric comments? That’s not like Vega,” the gunnery chief standing next to him said as he handed Steve another shotgun to cleanout.

 

Steve reached out to take the shotgun, but paused, “He _has_ been acting a little… off lately. I mean, normally, I wouldn’t complain about not having to think of a comeback every 20 seconds , but this…” Steve took his hand off the shotgun, pushing it back to the gunnery chief, “Can you take this one, Chief? I think I have to go figure out… whatever that was.”

 

/

 

Steve entered the men’s washroom on the third level, not sure if he found it more or less awkward that James was the only other person in the room. He engaged the door lock and turned to face the shower cubicle, taking a deep breath to prepare for what was bound to be an incredibly uncomfortable conversation for two people as inept at expressing their emotions as the two of them. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find a way to start, whether it was because of the nature of the conversation or the fact that one of them was standing naked with water beading down his body he couldn’t tell, but he did know that the image of James showering was stuck in his mind, no matter how unwelcome it might be at the moment. He stood in silence, arms crossed over his chest as he tried to both banish the image from his mind and concoct an opening sentence.

 

“I know you’re there, Esteban.” James called out.

 

“Okay, then… you mind explaining what that was, James?” Steve asked, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“I have a great idea,” James said, his voice fringed with irritation, “how about we have this conversation when I’m not naked?”

 

“I’d rather do this now. Before you have time to ‘work it out by yourself’. I seem to recall you crashed a shuttle last time you let an issue go unresolved.” Steve responded, any effort at joking lost to the edge in his voice as he got increasingly annoyed by James’ avoidance.

 

“I’m not doing this.”

 

“Why are you so dedicated to avoiding your feelings? I just want to have a conversation so you don’t go do something stupid again.” Steve flung his arms out from his chest in a dramatic gesture, completely aware that all the impact was lost behind the glass partition.

 

“Look, _you_ can be the _loco_ trying to have a conversation in the middle of a restroom but I’m not.” James snapped.

 

“James,” Steve pleaded, stepping toward the cubicle, reaching a hand toward the glass.

 

“Talk to you later… Cortez.”

 

Steve’s hand dropped. He stood in silence for a moment, desperately trying to swallow the coldness and disdain he never thought his own name could carry. James had never called him that. _Esteban_. Steve. _Tonto_ , sometimes if he teased him enough. Never Cortez. He blinked back tears slowly welling in his eyes.

 

On the other side of the partition, James stood just as still feeling the sting of what he had just said almost as strongly as Steve was. He had to say it; it was the only way he could think of to make Steve go. He was desperately fighting the urge to let everything he had ever felt fall out of his mouth and was closer and closer to losing by the second. He couldn’t do that to Steve and he couldn’t do that to himself.

 

After the silence had hung in the air long enough, Steve turned to leave. “I’m,” he paused, unused to the level of familiarity this situation was implying between the two of them, “I’m here for you, you know. If you’re going through something… let me help, okay?”

 

More silence. James hung his head, hoping that focusing on his breathing could stop him from feeling the pain of hurting his closest friend.

 

“Okay, then.” Steve walked through the door, shoulders slumped in defeat.

 

Once the door had closed, James slumped to the floor. He held his head in his hands, wondering how everything had gotten so fucked up.

 

Beyond the door, Steve stood unnaturally still. He knew he should report back to the armory. He was still on the clock. But there was something about staring into the void and downing a bottle of rum that seemed a little more cathartic at that moment.

 

/

 

Steve seemed disappointed as he emptied the bottle of rum into his glass. He was sure he should have been able to get more than four glasses out of it. He had been in the port-side lounge nearly 15 minutes before he heard any sign of James emerging from the washroom, making a weak attempt at a joke with Kaidan in the hallway as he headed into the elevator. The door into the lounge slid open with a _whoosh_ as the Major entered the room. Suddenly very aware of the fact that a superior officer had caught him drinking while on the clock, Cortez slammed the glass down in front of him, sloshing rum over the edge and onto the table, as he tried to stand up and salute, but instead managed to trip over the table and tumble toward the floor. Having three and a half overfilled drinks can have that sort of effect, especially on a lightweight like Cortez.

 

Kaidan rushed forward to catch the stumbling Lieutenant, carefully guiding him back onto the sofa, “Whoa, you okay there, Cortez? That was quite a spill,” Kaidan said, noticing the puddle of rum on the table, he chuckled a little, “No pun intended, but I sure wish it was,” still laughing as he went behind the bar and grabbed a towel to clean up the spill.

 

“Not really, no. I mean, you _could_ say that,” Cortez slurred. He sighed, tipping the now nearly empty glass back to drink the last few drops of alcohol, “but you’d be wrong.”

 

Kaidan walked back from the bar and paused, looking at the lieutenant with concern and an understandable amount of pity, “Look,” He knelt in front of the table and began to clean the messs, laying the towel flat on the table and letting it absorb the rum and patting it to speed along the process.  “I don’t want to be that guy, but I _am_ your superior officer and I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be on shift right now in the armory.” Kaidan’s voice, while clearly filled with sympathy, was tinged with a degree of apprehension at flexing his rank, not something he was sure he’d ever be comfortable doing. He took the towel and went to go wring it out over the bar sink. He watched Steve intently as he did, scrutinizing his expressions and body language, hoping for some clue as to why someone as reserved and well-behaved as Cortez would be drunk in the middle of his shift.

 

Steve swallowed and sat for a second, trying to control himself so that what he was about to say didn’t come out in a drunken mess. “That would be correct, sir.” He said carefully, keeping his head turned down and avoiding eye contact with the Major as much as possible. He paused and let himself gather his words to string together another sentence, “I let myself get waylaid by a personal problem. I don’t… I don’t know why. What happened was so… trivial. And I let myself get messed up over it.” He stared at his hands as he ran his fingers over the glass, still slick on the outside from the spill. He licked his cracked lips, looking up at Kaidan, who had returned to wipe the table with a new, damp cloth, making eye contact since the first time he walked into the room, “I’m not this type of person, you know. The type who drinks when they get upset.” He set the glass down and sighed, “Maybe I am. I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?” Closing his eyes and taking a breath, he continued, “I know you have your duties. Do whatever it is you need to do, Major.”

 

Kaidan gently folded the cloth and left it on the now clean, if a little sticky, table and sat next to Cortez on the couch, “I like you, Steve. You’re a good man and a good soldier.” Kaidan said, studying Cortez’s puzzled face, “I’ve been where you are. You ever heard about what happened between Shepard and I on Horizon? Not a fun time.” Steve chuckled half-heartedly in confirmation, “It was rough for me following that. I failed and had a falling out with my best friend who had just returned from the dead,” Kaidan paused, placing a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder, “I see some of myself in you, and I know you say it’s trivial, but if something happened that made you do this, I know it’s probably big enough that you’ll have enough on your plate without disciplinary action. I’m going to overlook this, okay?” Their eyes locked and Kaidan could see the appreciation in Steve’s face.

 

“Thank you, Major.” Steve said, nodding his head gently.

 

Kaidan took his hand from Steve’s shoulder and patted his thigh as he stood up, “Besides, the hangover might be disciplinary action enough,” he laughed, turning to offer Steve a hand “Now come on, we’ve got to get you to bed. The sooner you stop stumbling around, the sooner we get our shuttle pilot back. We’ll have enough time before hitting Thessia for you to sober up.”

 

“When Shepard finds out,” Steve started.

 

“Shepard never has to know. He’d hate to admit it, but _I_ am the highest-ranking officer on this ship. Something about dying for 2 years and then working, as he says, ‘in close proximity to’ a terrorist organization tends to stop you from getting promoted.” Kaidan assured the Lieutenant, “If you want to tell him you can, but that’s your choice. And if he starts yelling at you about regs, you have my permission to point out any of my belongings in his cabin.” Kaidan laughed, moving to the door.

 

Steve smiled, following Kaidan to the door, “Thanks again, Kaidan. I mean, Major,” he said before losing balance and stumbling again, this time into Kaidan’s back.

 

Kaidan twisted to catch him, pulling him up and tucking his arm around the Lieutenant’s body, not willing to take anymore chances with his coordination. Chuckling, Kaidan opened the door, “Okay, now we’re really getting you to bed.”


End file.
